Exploding Flames
by Punk19
Summary: A fanfiction about 2 young sons and their relationships with their fathers
1. Part 1: Burning Embers

Wheels turning, dirt spinning and thunder sounding in the distance Amy Lynn drove her red jeep towards a blanket of dark clouds. She could smell the rain and she could detect small flickers of lightning striking the ground miles away. Storms didn't scare her anymore, she was thirty, not the frightened twenty year old anymore that use to work at Shoney's. She had had a bad past, her father had kicked her out when she was twenty and she had remained homeless until she was twenty-five. In the back seat of her car was a few suitcases full of old memories, photos of her father and mother, tapes of her playing dress-up and other games with her sisters and letters from her grandparents.

Slowly turning the steering wheel she drove her jeep around a bend and down a long stretch of road, her eyes locked onto the sky, wishing that it would set the road on fire. She was so caught up with searching the sky for the long zig-zag white lights that she didn't know she had hit something. She drove on until she felt her car die.

"Now what!" Amy screamed.

Opening the door and stepping out she walked around her car, she stopped and stared in shock of the green mess that was on the side of it. She didn't want to but she felt she had to anyways, she slowly bent her knees and sat down, with a huge gulp of air she looked under her car. She saw nothing, sitting up she felt something slam into her the side of her face. She crashed to the ground, she could feel blood flowing from a cut to her cheek. Standing above her was a small child, with bright red, yellow and orange eyes.

********

Waking up a few hours later, Amy felt something cold and wet on her forehead. She tried to feel what it was but discovered that her arms were tied behind her. Screaming as loudly as she could and struggling as much as she could she tried to escape. After five minutes of screaming and struggling she stopped, breathing deeply she felt tears in her eyes. She couldn't remember a time when she had been so scared. A thud to her left made her turn her head. The small kid that she had seen earlier was standing beside a small beach chair.

"What are you looking at?" the kid yelled nervously.

"Who are you?" Amy squeaked.

"The name is Arson." he said.

"Why are you here?" Amy asked.

"Me and my half brother ran away from home," Arson said. "we couldn't take it anymore!"

Amy, in some ways, knew what he was talking about, she couldn't take most the the shit her old man had put on her. Her grandparents, she felt, were her real parents. They had always been there to take care of her, they had always stood by her side whenever times looked bad. When her grandparents died she had tried to get the same from her father, her mother having left her father when she was 8.

"Where is your brother?" Amy asked.

"Half brother!" Arson snapped.

"Pardon the...excuse me." Amy said. "Where is your half brother?"

"He's on his way to this state called Texas," he sighed. "we'll see each other again."

How many times had she told her father that she was going to run away and never come back and how many times had she actually had the gall to do it? She had said a lot of things as a young teenager and she had never done a single one of them. She had walked the streets, done a few drugs and gotten into some trouble but she had never ran away from home. She had been too scared, too scared that if her father had found her he would have hurt her.

"How old are you kid?" Amy asked bravely.

"Five," Arson snarled. "and it's not kid, it's Arson human!"

"And my name is Amy," Amy introduced her. "Amy L..."

"Do you think I give a damn about what your name is?" Arson yelled. "Just drive me to that state..."

"What state?" Amy asked, disgusted.

"You know, that state with the trees that have the white flowers."

Amy had no idea which state he was talking about, she had lived in eastern California all her life and not once in her life had she seen such a tree. Thinking hard she remembered her grandmother telling her about the beautiful Dogwood tree with its flowering plumes. Her grandmother had told her that it was the most beautiful tree in the world, and her grandmother had also told her that it was Virginia's state tree and flower.

"Are you talking about the Dogwood Tree?" Amy asked. "It's the only tree I can think of with white flowers."

"Is it the tree from Vir Hinny?" the boy asked.

Thinking hard Amy realized that if she did take the boy to Virginia she'd probably be charged for kidnap. The boys father was probably looking for him and if he looked anything like the young boy in front of her she was going to be in trouble. The boy had a dark red, almost black head with bullets for teeth, the top of the bullets were colored blood red and the bottom was silver, his lower teeth were silver. From what she could see he was wearing a dark brown jacket and dark red pants, the same color as his face, he also wore a pair of dark red almost black boots.

"Hon," Amy started. "don't you think you should be heading home, your dad may be..."

"Look human my dad don't care for me," Arson screamed.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked, she had a bad feeling about this.

"He's always yelling at me," the boy cried.

Now she understood the young boy, at times she would also take her fathers word too far and would think that he hated and didn't care for her. Smiling warmly, but not intending to do as the boy said, she nodded her head. She intended to find out where he had come from and take him back to his home.

"Where'd you come from?" Amy asked. "Where did you live?"

"In a medium sized home in Pasadena." Arson said. "Can we go now, I got a schedule to keep up."

The boy walked forward and with a small knife he cut the rope around her wrists, slowly rubbing her raw wrists, she started walking towards a door. Her jeep was still in the same place that she had stopped it and the door was still open. For an instant she visualized running to her car, getting in and slamming the door shut and speeding away. Motioning with her arm, she told the boy to climb into the passenger side, of which he did.

"Don't even think about taking me back home," the boy snarled. "I do not feel like using this on you."

Amy thought that the boy meant that he was going to use the knife he had used to cut the rope that he had tied around her wrists on her, swallowing hard and looking from the corner of her eye she saw a horrid sight. The boy was pointing to his right arm, which looked like the hand had been cut off. Adjusting her eyes she saw that his arm was really a flamethrower, the same color as the boys face, deep dark red. Swallowing hard, she put her key into the ignition, turned the car on and started driving east, she intended to do as the boy had told her.


	2. Chapter 2

Shaking his head and letting his eyes glow, Arson woke himself up four days later. He had made the girl drop him off at a small kitchen and he had decided to fall asleep in one of the cabinets that had chips and other snack items. Finding himself right thirsty, he slowly pushed the cabinet door open and looked around, not a human in sight, a rat scampered past but that was all. Pulling himself from the cabinet and stretching his arms he walked to a fridge. Before he could open it he heard voices, a man and a woman were outside the kitchen door.

"Paul, you promised to take me to see Alien vs Predator 2!" he heard the woman say.

"I will, I will, just let me get my wallet first." the man said.

Quickly hiding behind the counter, Arson saw the door open and he saw the mans boots walk towards him. He knew what a wallet was, he had tried to take fifty dollars from one of the caretakers and had gotten caught doing so. He had been grounded for 3 weeks, his brother had been allowed to go outside and play while he was only allowed to stay in his room except to use the bathroom and to eat his meals. Following the man's shadow, Arson intended to take a few dollars from his wallet.

Picking his wallet up from the counter and turning around the man bumped right into Arson, they stared at each other for five minutes then the man screamed. Doing the only thing he knew of, Arson raised his arm and fire roared from the end of his flamethrower, as usual it took his flamethrower a while to work and when he was finished the man was lying on the floor, burned to a crisp, his wallet had been dropped and it was unburned. Holding his flamethrower to the side, it was dripping Butane a little after he had fallen from the roof of his fathers home, he picked up and wallet and opened it. Inside was three twenty dollar bills, enough to get him by for awhile. Shaking his shoulders, he quickly headed for the door and for the outside world of Virginia.

"Gooooood morning Viiiirginia! It is a nice sixty seven degrees out and it is going to be getting up into the late eighties by noon. I have a feeling today is going to have a lot of beach goers. Better get out there and grab a parking place fast!"

Dragging his feet slowly under him, Arson felt both guilt and fear swell into his body. He couldn't believe it but he missed his father. He remembered when he was three that his father had taken him out of bed and had told him of how he had come to being born. How one day his father had been out walking and a lightning bolt struck him, when he woke up he heard crying and discovered that the bolt of lightning had struck his body so hard that it had caused some of his fluids to create a baby, and it had also created a small lightning bolt scar on his left shoulder.

"Aw, he's so cute!"

Pulling his head up he saw a small child kneeling down by him, she had a head of yellow curly hair and blue eyes, her finger tips were pink and red. The girl was wearing a blue and red shirt, blue jeans and some sort of brown colored open shoes. Slowly turning around, he started walking away.

"Wait," the girl said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Leave me alone!". Arson hissed, he didn't feel like having a human kid following him around like a shadow.

"Are you one of those dolls that walks, talks and goes potty?" the girl asked.

"Hell no!" Arson yelled, he turned around fast and stared at the girl.

"Then what are you?" the girl asked fearfully.

"A freak of nature!" Arson screamed.

Turning around as fast as he could Arson started running, the words of his father rang through his ears. Do not talk to strangers. He had broken two rules while being away from his father. One being to not leave the home without his father or one of his uncles or aunt or one of the caretakers knowing and two being not to talk to strangers. He heard the girl behind him begging him to stop, but he didn't, he continued on down the sidewalk.

Arson ran until he couldn't run anymore, he stopped by a small restaurant, the food smelled so good and he hadn't had anything to eat in a few hours. He waited until someone pushed the door open then walked in. There weren't many humans in the place, just five including the one who had just walked in.

"Hey Max make sure those fries are cooked better than the last batch," Clara yelled. "the last batch was half burned."

"I'm on it Clara!"

Mumbling under his breath and slipping a large amount of fries into the Gas-Fired Fryer, it was brand new, just installed yesterday and no one knew how to use it. The last batch of fries that he had cooked had been half burned and couldn't be eaten, he planned for this batch to be cooked the right way. Turning around and grabbing a container of grease he prepared himself for the next batch.

"I wonder what that human is doing." Arson thought.

Bending low enough to watch the man pour the yellow liquid into a large stove, Arson watched as the liquid started boiling. He wondered what the man was cooking, he could smell something delicious to his left but for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off of the popping liquid below him.

"Hey Charles, don't forget to flip those burgers!" Max yelled.

Max was a five foot six inch man with blondish red hair and light green eyes. He was wearing green pants, a black shirt and black shoes, the restaurants uniform. He had worked at one other place, two years earlier, but had gotten fired because he had gotten into a brawl with his boss over his girlfriend. Slowly he poured the cold fries into the stove holders, he did not see the young boy bending above him.

Leaning far over the edge of the shelf, the man was obscuring his view, Arson felt himself fall. Yelling as loud as he could he tried to grab a hold of the shelf but it was too late! He fell right into the popping yellow liquid and the food items that the man had just put in. The man jumped back in shocked disbelief, he thought he had seen a huge rat.

"Sheeeeeiiiiiit!" Arson screamed. "This is hot!"

Jumping out of the vat and landing on the floor, he wanted to run but his body wouldn't let him. He felt like he was on fire, his whole body felt like it was on fire. Remembering the words of his father he dropped to the ground and rolled. Five minutes of rolling, he picked himself up and ran towards a door.

"What the fuck is this?" Max thought a loud. The grease had spilled on his pants but he didn't notice, he was more focused on the sizzling and screaming creature in front of him. He didn't know what it was, it was covered in grease and whatever it was wearing was burning off. Shrugging his shoulders he ran and grabbed a broom, he knew his boss wasn't going to be happy about the delay.

Arson saw the man grab a stick and turned, his eyes glowing brightly, he hissed threateningly and raised his flamethrower. The man hesitated for a minute then walked towards him, brandishing the stick. With a child-like premature roar, which sounded a lot more like the roar from the movie Lion King that he had watched two days before running away from home, he turned his flamethrower on and allowed the flame to engulf the man.

His eyes must have popped out of his head, he had thought the creature in front of him was some sort of new species of upright animal or ape but instead he discovered that he was dealing with some sort of new technology with a flamethrower. Running out of the kitchen, out of the restaurant, he ran as fast as he could to a hose. Turning it on frantically he did all that he could to stop the flames from eating his flesh.

Arson stared at the man, true his flame wasn't as powerful or as hot as his fathers but it had worked on that guy that he had walked into at that kitchen. Tapping his flamethrower with his hand, he saw nothing wrong except that it had been burned a little. With a moan he started walking, he needed to find some sort of store now, his clothes were totally ruined. He saw a car up ahead, the door was open and there was a woman inside, it looked like she was messing around in her bag, probably looking for the keys that were going to start her car. Going as fast as he could he ran up to the car and jumped into the passenger side door.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly pulling her head up, Abigail York breathed impatiently. She couldn't find the keys to her blue Chevrolet, she could have swore she had put them in her purse but for some reason they weren't there. She had an important meeting with her friend Jack and she didn't want to be late for it. With an exasperated sigh, she grabbed her bag and completed dumped it on the passenger seat. Rummaging through gum wrappers, her check book, pens and other unnecessary items she finally found them, they were in a small zipped up pocket.

Arson poked his head up and watched as the woman dumped her bag, there were a few items that caught his eye, a pack of ciggarettes and a lighter. Stretching his hand out, he grabbed the cigarettes, he had been caught smoking one of his fathers cigars a few months ago and had been lectured about it thoroughly. He felt that he didn't need the lighter so he pulled one of the cigarettes out and tried to light it. His flamethrower did nothing but spit out smoke.

Abigail knew nothing of the small boy in the back of her car trying to light one of her Menthol's, hearing her cell phone ring she grabbed it.

"Where are you Abby?" Jack asked.

"I'm on my way," Abigail said. "I had car troubles."

"Broke down?" her friend asked.

"No, not necessarily."

Throwing the cigarette down, frustrated, Arson reached forward and grabbed the lighter, he would have been caught hadn't the car of hit a bump and the woman had looked down, luckily for him she hadn't. slowly turning the thumbwheel, he lit a new cigarette, the one he had dropped had rolled under the woman's seat and he couldn't reach it. Taking one puff off of the cigarette he felt sick.

"Uh!" Arson said disgustidly. "Gross!"

Abigail's eyes grew large, pulling the car over and turning around quickly, she laid her eyes on the small boy behind her. The boy smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Taking her seat belt off and completely turning around in her seat, she could care less about the cell phone at this minute, right now she was curious about the boy in her car.

"Who are you?" Abigail asked."Where did you come from?"

"None of your business!" Arson spat.

Abigail looked the boy up and down, he looked like he had been burned. Everything on his body was either badly burned or very much ripped, his boots were the only thing that looked to be untouched. Softening her features and throwing her hair, which was up, behind her shoulders, she stretched her hand out intending to comfort the boy.

With a deep hiss Arson pulled his flamethrower up, even though it wasn't working he knew that he could use it as a threat. All he wanted was for this woman to drive him to a place where he could get some new clothes. Before he could emit another hiss he felt deep pain all throughout his body. Lowering his flamethrower, he started crying.

Abigail drew back when she saw the flamethrower point at her but seeing the boy cry she couldn't help herself. The boy was probably lost and scared to death. Stretching her hand out again she place it on his shoulder, it was hot to the touch and the boy moaned in pain. Opening her door and walking to the trunk of her car she pulled out a towel that she had packed for the beach.

Arson felt great anger surge inside of himself, he hadn't intended to start crying. He pulled himself up and tried climbing into the front seat, where the woman had been sitting. Lighting his eyes up bright, he felt like screaming, the pain, it hurt to move. With a deep moan he hoisted himself up, he wanted to scream and cry again. His legs felt like they were going to fall off, they hurt so bad. The woman had left the door open so with a deep breath he jumped out. Jumping from the car was the easy part, landing was a different story. Instead of landing on his feet he landed on his butt. Clamping his mouth shut, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he pulled himself up. He saw the woman rounding the car, she was holding a towel and a few bottles of water.

"Hey boy," Abigail said softly. "I'm gonna wet this towel and put it around you okay."

The minute he saw the woman he wanted to run, moving one of his legs he felt great pain. Before he could run he felt the woman wrap something cold and wet around him. With the last bit of strength he had he screamed loudly. He couldn't move his arms, they hurt too much, his eyes darkened, he could hardly see anything., all he knew was that he was being picked up.

Gently picking the boy up and holding him in one of her arms, she wrapped the soaked towel around his body and gently sang to him. She had no idea how much pain he was in, but she knew he could hardly move without moaning. Walking around her car and opening the passenger side, she layed him down on the seat. There was a hospital about ten miles away and she intended to go to it. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed her friends number.

"Hey Jack." Abigail sighed.

"Where are you?" Jack asked impatiently.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to attend our meeting," Abigail said. "Something's come up."

"This had better be good," Jack said angrily. "what's causing you to miss our meeting?"

"I'm taking this boy to the hospital," Abigail sighed. "he's badly burned Jack."

"Which hospital?" Jack asked.

"Johnston Willis." Abigail said.

Driving her car quickly, Abigail did not notice the figure with the red eyes move out of the bushes. The boy beside her was shaking his head slowly back and forth, mumbling about how much he missed his half brother and moaning about how much his father was going to kill him if he found him. His flamethrower had fallen out of the towel and was hanging off of the seat, it was dripping liquid all over her cars floor.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dr. Dew, Dr. Dew please come to the emergency room on level three."

Arson woke up very slowly, he felt something heavy on his arm. He had a bad headache and he felt like he was going to get sick.

"Hey there sweetie."

Turning his head to the side Arson saw the same human that he had hitched a ride with. She was standing by him with her hand on his pillow. Looking down he saw that his shoulders were completely bandaged, lifting his arm he saw eighty percent of his body was bandaged. There was some sort of heavy bandage over the nozzle of his flamethrower.

"The doctors don't know what happened to your hand hon," Abigail said. "they're doing the best that they can for you."

"I don't have a right hand," Arson moaned. "I never had."

"What do you mean hon?" Abigail asked. "The doctors said that they found some sort of liquid dripping from the end of your..."

"It's a flamethrower human," Arson said, he slowly and painfully sat up. "I was born with a flamethrower."

She had no idea what the boy was talking about, she had walked into the hospital nine hours ago with him wrapped in a very wet towel dripping fluid from the end of his arm. The doctors had taken him in right away, it had taken four hours of putting medicine, cleaning and bandaging his body.

"I see our burn child has woken up."

Turning his head, Arson saw a tall, balding old man wearing a white jacket walk into the room. Whatever hair the man had was graying, he was wearing a blue shirt, blue pants a light blue tie. Moaning loudly he fell back to the pillow, the human beside him placed her hand on his head and gently patted him, the doctor walked forward quickly.

"Has he said anything?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah, he said that his right arm was a flamethrower." Abigail sighed.

"He's gone through a lot so it is normal for him to say things like that." he said. "Has he said anything about where he came from?"

"Nothing about that."

Looking at the young boy, the doctor felt sympathy. He had seen burn victims before but none as bad as this one. None of the nursing staff knew his parents or guardian, all they knew was that he was brought in in very bad condition. His right hand had been cut off and some sort of liquid had been dripping out of the wound, the nurse that had cleaned that would had said that it smelled like Butane, physically impossible although not completely as the boy might have fallen into a puddle or something that had Butane in it.

"Boy," the doctor said slowly. "my name is Dr. Henry Geek and I've been assigned to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." the boy said after a few minutes, he stared at the doctor distrustfully.

"I am going to ask you a few questions okay," the doctor said. "How old are you?"

"None of your damn business!" Arson yelled.

The doctor's mouth dropped, never in his thirty years of teaching had he ever heard a child curse. Sitting down on the edge of the bed he tried again. The woman that had brought the boy in continued patting the boy on his head, it seemed to have had a calming effect to the young boy.

"Come on, no one is going to hurt you I promise," Dr. Geek said calmly. "how old are you?"

"Five." the boy sighed.

"What's your name hon?" Abigail asked gently.

Arson pulled away from the human and looked up at her, he was curious about both but he also felt that he was about to get in trouble. He was hungry and thirsty but he didn't want to ask them, he was also very cold and uncomfortable.

"The name is Arson human!" Arson moaned.

"Arson..??"

Abigail and the doctor looked at each other, they had never heard a name like this. Abigail smiled gently at the boy, the first thing that came to her mind was that Arson was the boys nickname. Standing up and walking over to a tray, the doctor pulled out a syringe and a case of medicine that would ease the boy's pain.

"Where are you from dear?" Abigail asked.

"None...," Arson started to say. "California."

"Why are you in Virginia?" Abigail asked, she had a bad feeling.

"I ran away from home." Arson sighed.

"Keep him talking ma'am," the doctor said.

Arson twisted his head towards the doctor, his eyes glowed and he growled threateningly. In the man's hand was a syringe, with a scream he kicked his legs up and threw his arms above his head. The doctor tried to grab his left arm but he was too fast, Abigail already had his legs steady.

"Leave me alone!" Arson screamed. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"Calm yourself son," the doctor said, trying to calm the boy. "I am not going to hurt you."

"Get your paws off me!" Arson screamed, he threw his body up and almost jumped off the bed.

"Nurse!"

The doctor had dropped the syringe and had grabbed a hold of one of the boy's arms, the girl was having a hard time holding his legs down. He screamed for a nurse to get in and help, after three minutes one did. The nurse was a young woman with black hair and green eyes, her nails were painted black.

"Grab a syringe and give him an injection of some sleeping medicine!" the doctor screamed.

"Yes doctor!" the nurse said.

"Daddy!"

Arson had no idea why but he had allowed himself to scream at the top of his lungs daddy. He wished his father was nearby, he would help him, he'd also make these humans leave him alone. He felt tears roll down his cheeks, he wished he could somehow grab the doctors arm in his mouth and bite, he knew he had a nasty bite. One day one of the caretakers had walked up behind him and had scooped him up, surprised him, he had taken a real deep and nasty bite out of the man's arm.

Drawing the medicine into the syringe was one thing, administering it into the boy's system was another. The boy was totally out of control, he had kicked off the sheets and had turned around completely, he was almost loose. Quickly grabbing one of his legs the nurse turned him around to were she would be able to push the syringe in. The boy roared a premature roar when he felt the needle go into his body.

"There you go," Abigail said soothingly. "just a pinch and it's all over with."

Arson's eyes were completely lit up, with a roll he kicked the human in the face that was holding his feet, she fell onto the floor. He ripped his arm from the doctors hands, and he slapped the woman that the man had called nurse in the face. The doctor tried to grab him but the boy was too fast. Jumping from the bed and racing out of the room before anyone could stop him, Arson felt the effects of the medicine in his system. Shaking his head and almost falling to his knees, he continued on.

"Stop that kid!"

A tall blond doctor with blue eyes stood in his path, his arms were outstretched and so were his legs. He didn't want to stay here, he was scared! With a scream tried to run in between the man's legs but was caught. The man pulled him by his hospital gown around and wrapped his huge arm around his body, trapping him and strangling him at the same time.

"Leave mah bro alone!"

There were cracks of thunder all around, the man that was holding him fell down and he was released. Arson crawled to the wall, tried to stand but he couldn't get his legs to move. They felt like jello, the stuff that his father had given him one day when he was sick.

"Bro, bro can ye breathe?"

Using the last of his strength Arson nodded his head and placed his arms around his older brothers shoulders. His brother was stronger than he was, he had once carried him from the cliffs were he had broken his leg back home to were he was fixed up. Letting his head fall onto his brothers shoulders, he fell asleep.


	5. Part 2: Bullets on Fire

Running as fast as he could, constantly looking behind his shoulder, Four Way Shot raced down the highway trying to get as far away from his home. He had climbed out of his window, like every night, and he would have climbed down the flower fence that was against the house hadn't he of remembered his brothers fight with his father earlier. He had back tracked to his brothers window and had gently knocked on it, luckily for him his brother was awake.

"Four Way?" Arson said sleepily. "I was almost asleep, what's wrong?"

"Ye wanna come with me?" Four Way Shot asked.

"Where you going?" Arson asked.

"Imma goin' to Texas," Four Way Shot said.

"No thanks, if I was going anywhere from here it'd be farther away."

It had taken him a little persuading to get his brother to come along, he had had to help his brother down the flower fence, he had fallen down the last few steps and had crashed to the ground, if it wouldn't have been for Four Way Shot he would have started crying, and past the fence that kept both of them away from the train track. His father had personally stayed up all day and all night for five days in a row building the fence after he had discovered both him and his brother playing on them, the final straw was when his father had found him lying down on the tracks while a train was coming. It had totally surprised him when his brother had told that he wasn't going to be joining him on his trip to Texas, instead he was going to Virginia.

"Bro, this is where I and you part." Arson said.

"Whut, no way!" Four Way Shot spat surprisingly.

"Just for awhile man," Arson begged. "we won't be separated long."

"I ain't a-gonna let ye go off on yer own!" Four Way Shot yelled, he had grabbed his brother by the elbow and had hugged him tightly, he and his brother were close, they were never no more than ten, fifteen feet away from each other.

"Dude!" Arson had screamed. "You sound like my dad!"

True, he had sounded like his brothers father, he just didn't want his brother to get hurt. He was older, by four years, and a little bit stronger and taller than his brother, seventeen inches. He remembered this time when he and his brother had wrestled in the yard, it would have been an easy victory hadn't his father of picked him up when he had his brother pinned.

"Imma sorry bro," Four Way Shot had said sighing. "I just don't want ye to git hurt is all."

"I'll be fine man," Arson yelled. "I'll stow away in a car, no one will know that I'm there."

"Ye shur?" Four Way Shot asked. "Cuz I could come an' all."

"Why are you going to Texas anyways?" Arson yelled, trying to change the subject.

He had a great relationship with his father, there had been a few problems here and there where he had to be properly disciplined. The one time he could remember quite well was when he had stolen his fathers horse, Banjo, a more advanced horse that at times bucked and reared and dumped his rider, and had cantered off without telling anyone. He had been whipped and grounded for three weeks for that.

"Ye gotta be quiet!" Four Way Shot whispered. "Ye want our pa's to hear us?"

"Whoops, sorry." Arson apologised. "Why are you going to Texas?"

He had caught his father reading a catalogue about Texas one day and had asked about the state. His father had told him a lot about the state, the history, the weather, he had even mentioned that he had been to Texas a few times. His father had promised to take him but he never months after he had caught his father reading the catalogue he had found a book titled Lone Star: A History of Texas and the Texans, he had hidden the book under his mattress and had used every opportunity to read it, he had pretended to be sick one day just to read it.

"I've always a-wanted to see Texas." Four Way Shot had said.

"Oh, well you go to Texas for a while," Arson had suggested. "then come to Virginia."

"I'm not shur," Four Way Shot muttered. "whut if ye git hurt?"

"I'm not, I can take care of myself!" Arson exclaimed.

"Alrighty," Four Way Shot sighed. "I'll a-lit ya go, but I wanna see ye in a week."

Both of the boys had stopped to talk at a Y shaped road, one strip of road going towards nothing but desert while the other went towards the town that the caretakers use to go to to get supplies. After a shake of the hand and a long hug both boys had separated, one going down the desert road and the other going down the road towards the town.

Four Way Shot tripped and fell, ripping the knee of his jeans open, pulling himself up and continuing up the road, he heard an owl hoot. It was late, the stars were out and the moon was half out. His stomach was rumbling, he hadn't had nothing to eat for supper on account that he had been sent to bed without after trying to help his brother with his father. Deep in thought, Four Way Shot was almost hit by a truck.

Driving down the road, his radio on full blast with Hollywood Undead's Young playing, Carlos almost hit the boy that was almost in the middle of the road. Pulling over and turning his truck off, he was driving a red Toyota Tundra with painted yellow and orange stripes on the side, the engine was brand new as was the radio. Opening his flame painted door and stepping out, he looked around.

"Whose out there?"

Four Way Shot stood stock still, he felt paralyzed, he couldn't move. The man that had gotten out of the truck was huge with muscles as big as his head! His voice boomed through his ears, the man was wearing a shirt that looked very much ripped up. The sleeves were gone and there were holes in the stomach, his pants were much worse, threads hanging down and paint drops all over. Swallowing hard, Four Way Shot walked forward, out of eyesight of the man, and he climbed into the truck.

"Damn Coyotes!" Carlos mumbled. "No good scavengers!"

Four Way Shot knew a lot about Coyotes, he had been attacked by a juvenile male and would have been killed hadn't his father have been close by. His father worked from sunrise to sunset at the ranch behind their home, feeding and breeding the stock, gathering the Chickens eggs, milking cows, taking care of the sheep and goats, a few months back they had had five sheep pregnant with lambs, only one had delivered, the others had been preyed upon by the Coyotes. The Coyotes were bad, but the Mountain Lions had been worse, his father had lost two of the three bulls to a Mountain Lion and a lot of the goats had fallen prey as well. One day while he had been out he had encountered one of the big cats. Luckily he had stolen one of his fathers Colt .64's and had shot the cat in the stomach, he had gotten away but not unscathed, the cat had swiped at his back and had dug his claws into his body, he still had the five inch long scar to prove it, and the skin of which he personally cut off of the cat with a sharp rock. He had never seen his father more scared or mad when he had come home bleeding, sore and with the skin.

"Ooooooooooh give meeeeeeeee a hoooooooooome, wherrrrrre the baaaaaaafalo roam"

Clamping his hands over his mouth to stop from laughing, Four Way Shot slowly poked his head up over the seat. The muscular man behind the wheel was singing as loud as he could an old song, the radio clock was on but there was no music coming from it. The man's high pitched yoddeling almost made him drop his hands, he wanted to laugh, his sides hurt and so did his chest.

"Oooooooooh give meeeeee a laaaaaand, where the briiiiiiiiight diiiiiiiaaaaamond sand, floooooooows leeeeeeeeiiiissurely down theeeeee streeeeeeam."

Not able to hold it in any long, Four Way Shot allowed himself to laugh. He intended for himself to laugh silently so that the man couldn't hear him but instead what came out was a full out loud laugh. The man in front of him arched his back and twisted his head back, along with very muscular shoulders and arms he had a very muscular neck. For a few seconds both stared at each other, then the man pulled the truck over, they were almost at the border.

"Who are you?" Carlos exclaimed. "Why are you in my truck?"

"Calm yerself," the boy whimpered. "I ain't a-gonna hurt ya."

"Do I have to ask again?" Carlos said angrily.

"No sah," the boy sighed. "Mah name is Fer Way Shot an' I done runned away from home."

"Where did you come from?"

Carlos could see that the boy was scared, he was almost curled up and he could see in his eyes great distrust. The boy was wearing a brown button up shirt, a dark brown vest, black jeans and he had black boots with gold spurs on his feet. His face, although intense was also right soft and boyish with a clefted chin and brown eyes, his eyebrows and eyes were light brown, he was holding a brown stetson in his hands tightly. Clearing his throat he tried to calm himself down.

"Where did you come from?" Carlos asked again.

"I ain't a-gonna tell ye!" the boy exclaimed. "If I do ye'll a-take me back."

"Damn right I will!" Carlos mumbled angrily.

Stretching his hand towards the boy, not intending to hurt him, Carlos grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. With a gasp he dropped the boy, the boy had more than two arms!

"Git off me!" Four Way Shot yelled. His father had once told him that it was okay to defend himself in certain situations and he was wondering if this was one of them. The man had stretched his hand out and had grabbed his top arm tightly, it had felt like the man was going to pull his arm off.

"Damn kid, how many surprises do you have hidden on you?" Carlos growled.

"I gots many!" the boy said angrily.

"Oh really..."

Grabbing the boy below the first set of arms Carlos lifted him up and over the seat, the boy was kicking and punching out with all four of his hands, he had dropped his hat when he had picked him up. Thinking that the boy might have had some sort of identification on him, with one hand Carlos started to search his pockets.

Four Way Shot's eyes grew wide when he felt the fingers of the man that was holding him pry into the pockets of his pants, with a wild scream he wrapped one of his hands around one of the guns in his hollisters and withdrew it. The man stopped prying and they stared eye-to-eye, no one made a sound. Pulling the safety and pushing the trigger, the man fell back onto the seat. He had been shot in the upper shoulder area. Grabbing his hat and opening the door, Four Way Shot jumped out of the truck and raced out of sight, over the border.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was coming up and the hunger was starting to kick in real bad, his knee hurt him a lot from where he had fallen trying to get away from the man. He couldn't believe that he had actually shot the man. Before he had gone into his room and slammed the door he had gone into his fathers, his father had ordered four small Colt .64's and he had said that he was going to start teaching him how to shoot them, he never had gotten around to it. His father's guns were slightly bigger than his and were a lot more powerful, he had found that out the hard way when he had stolen two of them. He knew there was a store nearby, he could see it, he had a few dollars in his pocket, he had back tracked into his fathers room and had taken two five dollar bills from his father's wallet, of which his father had placed under his mattress for safe-keeping.

Stanley Winston, a thirty-three year old man with green eyes and brown hair, was wiping the counter when he heard the bell ring. He had just opened the store and was getting ready for his nine hour shift. The store had just about anything in it, gas, food, water, drinks, a few tourist items for the travelers.

"Howdy."

Looking up sharply, he saw no one, the first thing that ran through his head was that he had heard the wind, the second thing was that he had heard a kid. At times a few parents would send their kids into the store with five dollars, no more, to get a treat for the road. Smoothing his hair back and pulling his apron down, he walked around the counter.

"Hello there so...." he couldn't get the last word out all the way. Standing behind the counter was a small boy, about sixteen or so inches, with four arms. His clothes were real dusty and his pants were ripped, the boy hand two of his four hands in his pockets.

"Kin ye help me?" the boy asked.

"Uh, sure." Stanley heard himself say. "What do you need?"

The boy removed his hands from his pockets, in one of them was some money, it looked like he had two five dollar bills. Shaking his head slowly, Stanley grabbed a paper bag and followed the boy. The boy picked out a can of jerky, which was five dollars, and a bottle of water which was a dollar and seventy-five cents. When the boy had handed him the cash he noticed that he had a bad cut to his hand.

"What happened here?" Stanley asked.

"Nothin'!" the boy has said quickly and nervously. "I gotta go."

"Alright," Stanley sighed. "tell your mom to fix that cut, it'll get infected if you don't."

The boy had turned around and was in the process of walking away when he stopped. Stanley could tell that he was breathing hard. Knowing something was wrong he walked towards him and placed his hands on the boys shoulders.

"I ain't got a ma." the boy said sadly.

Stanley pulled his hands up off of the boys shoulders, a bad mistake as the boy was very fast. One minute he was standing in front of him and the next he was running out of the door with the bag of stuff he had bought.

Running away from the store heading west without looking back, Four Way Shot heard the man's words again. Tell your mom to fix that cut, it'll get infected if you don't. All his life he had never known his mother, his father had told him that he had been brought by a huge chicken to their doorstep one day, it had been a golden color with black hair on top of its head and with dark claws. Shaking his head hard, he shoved one of his hands into the bag and pulled out the can of jerky, opening it he ate one.

"Mom, are we there yet?"

"No honey."

Four Way Shot had walked a good long ways from the store and had eaten two of the six jerky sticks and he had drank half of the water in the bottle, he was real tired but he didn't want to stop, he was afraid that if he did something bad might happen. There was a gray colored van with two humans in it, a mother and her young son, and there was a green colored car beside the van with no one in it, the door was wide open. Looking both ways, he crossed the road and jumped into the car, the backseat had a red and black blanket folded up on the seat, he crawled into it and fell asleep.

"Hey boy..!"

Shaking his head gently and bringing his hand up over his face, there was a light staring him in the face and it was blinding him. He moaned and pulled the blanket over his head, it stayed over his head for a few seconds then was pulled off. Lifting his head and squinting his eyes he thought he saw his father.

Gently pulling the blanket off of the boy, Henry Kert dimmed the flashlight in his hand. He had driven from Arizona to Texas in two days and had discovered the boy sleeping in the blanket that he had bought for his wife when he had parked his car in front of the 7-11. He had had no idea that he had had the boy in his car, the boy had made no sound at all.

"Whut?" Four Way Shot asked sleepily. "Whar am I?"

"You are in Texas boy," the man said. "how long have you been in my car?"

Pulling himself up and stretching all four of his arms above his head, Four Way Shot yawned greatly. If he would have been at home still his father would have been sitting on his bed gently shaking his shoulders and telling him to get up. Pulling his legs up out of the blanket and jumping down to the floor, he made for the door to his left.

"Boy!"

Turning himself around quickly and staring at the man, Four Way Shot readied one of his hands to grab one of the guns in his vest hollisters. The man was wearing a pair of black checkered pants, a matching shirt and jacket and black shoes, a black checkered hat was stuck in his back pocket. The man had steel gray eyes and black hair down to his shoulders.

"Whut?" Four Way Shot asked groggily.

"You know what," the man said, frustrated. "why are you in my damn car?"

"Ye said a bad word!" Four Way Shot gasped.

"Yes, I did, now are you going to answer my question?"

"I needed a ride to Texas," Four Way Shot sighed. "that's all."

Grabbing the door handle and pulling it hard, Four Way Shot felt hot air hit him in the face and there was a sweet smelling scent in the air that made his stomach rumble loudly. Pushing the door open a little more, he jumped out of the car. The man was there and he grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him up to the hood of the car, struggling hard, kicking and punching his hands, Four Way Shot tried to escape.

"Hey now, stop struggling," Henry said quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Whut're ye a-gonna do with me?" Four Way Shot asked fearfully.

"I guess, that since we are here at a food stop I might as well buy you something to eat."

Four Way Shot had never tasted anything as good as what he was eating, the man had called it Waffles topped with honey and whipped cream. There was a cherry on top that he had decided to save for later on down the road. The man had nothing but a cup of coffee, something that he had called Decaf. Both he and his brother had had two cups each of the substance that his father had called Black Coffee, his brother had bounced off the walls after drinking two and one half cups while he had just need to drink one, it had been a lot of fun, he remembered, making their fathers run around chasing them, a big game to them but a living hell for everyone in the house. He had fallen first, right into his father's arms, his brother had followed a few minutes later.

"Oh he's so adorable!"

Lifting his head up fast, honey dripping down the side of his mouth, he saw a medium height yellow haired girl with green eyes bending over looking at him. He was quite use to this, as was his father who at times was rather the toss around as his fire uncle so aptly put it. Girls would come up and gawk at him, telling him how handsome he was, then their attention would be directed at him. The girl was wearing a red and white see through shirt, a white undershirt underneath, and blue jeans with the knees ripped.

"Is he yours?" the girl asked.

"Hell no!" Henry exclaimed. "He's a stow away, found him in my car sleeping under a blanket."

"Oh, well where'd he come from?"

Four Way Shot swallowed the last bit of waffle and while the two humans were engaged in conversation he snuck away, it was quite easy, all he had to do was slip under the table and walk around the girls legs, the door was right behind his seat. Pushing it open he ran out, he had wrapped the last of the jerky sticks and the cherry in a napkin, but the water bottle was still in the mans car. Not wanting to get caught, he ran past the car and into a thicket of tall shrubs. He saw the man race out, he could tell that the man was man, the girl followed soon after.

"Now where the hell did he go?" Henry yelled.

"Poor boy," the girl said sadly. "he must be very scared."

"Yeah, he must be scared shitless to have ran away from home."

Gasping loudly, Four Way Shot backed farther into the bushes. He hadn't told the man why he had ran away, he hadn't told the man nothing except that he had needed a ride to Texas. Turning around slowly, he made way for a small stream, he knew that at times trees dropped sticks big enough to hold his body weight, which was almost five pounds, and he had a small amount of rope in his shirt, he planned to make himself a raft. Grabbing just about as many large sized sticks that he believed would hold him, he started building the raft. Not knowing it, he started whistling Hank William's Hey Good Lookin', one of his favorite country artists from the old times. He and his father both listened to the same artists, Shania Twain, Garth Brooks, Faith Hill, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, Marty Robbins, Tammy Wynette, Ray Price, Johnny Horton, Bill Monroe, Brenda Lee, Glen Campbell, Kitty Wells, Tennessee Ernie Ford, George Jones, Blue Oyster Cult, Electric Light Orchestra amongst others. At times, when everyone was asleep he'd pull out a CD player that he had received as a birthday present and he'd play Faith Hill and Blue Oyster Cult until the batteries were dead. His father still hadn't caught up or gotten wind to how many batteries he used a month, which was around ten.

In all it took an hour and a half to gather sticks and tie them together, when he was finished he had barely enough strength to push the raft in, it was big enough to hold him and only him. Tying the raft to a tree, he didn't have the strength to push the raft into the water, he sat down. His eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Swinging his legs over the edge of the raft, having taken his boots off a few minutes before, Four Way Shot steered the raft down the stream. The stream looked to be crystal clear, beautiful, and every once in a while he'd see a fish swim past. He wished he had brought a hook with him, his father had a small fishing kit in his room and he had been in his room, but he hadn't thought that he might have wanted to catch something to eat. He remembered one time were his father had taken him out fishing, he had caught a fish that his father had called Shasta Trout, when the fish had been cooked he remembered that it was one of the most delicious meals in his life!

Looking to the left saw a bear, a creature he had only seen and read in books and on television. According to what he had read the animal could reach a weight of a thousand pounds, the book had also mentioned that the animal most typically weighed four hundred to seven hundred and seventy pounds. He knew that they had an awesomely scary arsonal of weapons, a lot of muscle and teeth and claws, and he knew how fast they could run, if he was to come in contact with one he wouldn't have had a chance.

"Stay away bear," Four Way Shot said aloud. "please don't come in the water."

The bear must have heard him because it turned around and ran into the trees and bushes. Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to fall back onto the raft, the water felt really cool and there was a hint of rain in the air. He wished that he still had the bottle of water, he was thirsty and he wouldn't dare drink the water the raft was flowing in. His father had told him once that water in lakes, streams and rivers were at times bacteria ridden and very unhealthy to drink, he didn't feel like getting sick. There was a sound to his left, turning his head slowly he saw the most beautiful animal he had ever seen!

He had seen plenty of deer, at times he would sneak out of his room, tack up his horse and ride out to check out the cows which were allowed to roam freely in a large pasture, one day he had seen a lot of deer grazing beside the cows, it had been a beautiful sight to see! This deer was totally different, it's coat was white and its eyes were red. His father had told him stories about the Native Americans, the story had been called The Ghost of the White Deer and it had been right interesting. He found a lot of the Native American stories interesting and he had checked out as many books about them as he could.

"Oh he's beautiful," Gregg Newby said in awe. "a perfect trophy!"

Gregg Newby was a tall, broad shouldered forty year old with orange hair and blue eyes, in his hand was a Remington Model 7400 hunting rifle, one of his favorites. The gun had a very nice shine to it, like it was brand new, the butt and stock glowed brightly in the little light that fell past the trees, the barrel was long and equally shiny. Stealthily walking forward, keeping himself out of sight, Gregg walked towards the deer, an evil smile crossed his face as he pulled the gun up to his shoulder, the deer was his.

Four Way Shot was so focused on the deer that he hadn't noticed the man until he heard the loud clap of thunder. The deer flopped to its side and he felt some pain, looking down he saw that his shirt was ripped and his arm was bleeding. Pulling his head up, he saw the man and hissed, the man was holding a gun, smoke was coming from the muzzle.

Gregg stopped cold when he saw the boy sitting in the middle of a raft, the boy was close to him but he didn't think that he had hit him, maybe a nick but nothing of which to be worried about, the boy was climbing off of the raft, he tried pulling it in but the water was too strong, the raft was pulled away.

"Hey there," Gregg said.

"Ye killed it!"

There had been a time when he had seen his father pull out a rifle, a Winchester Model 1873 Rifle with a red stock, butt and a black barrel, very powerful and very dangerous. There had been a cow on the ranch, a very sick female cow that had lost her calf, a high dollar calf, and rather risking having everything else in the herd getting sick his father had shot her. He had tried to stop his father several times, not fully understanding why he was going to shoot the cow, and in order to get the job down and to make sure Four Way Shot wouldn't be shot as well his father had shoved him a few feet, had made him fall on his behind in the dirt. After the deed had been down and over with his father had given him a good long talk about why he had shot the cow. A few days after his father had shot the cow he got curious and stole the gun, his father had caught him in time before the trigger had been pulled.

"Yes, yes I did." Gregg said. "Who are you?"

"How many times is I a-gonna say mah name?" Four Way Shot asked, frustrated.

"Alright, alright." Gregg said quickly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," the boy said. "ye done shot me, but Imma fine."

"You sure," Gregg whispered. "I have a first aid kit in my truck..."

He stopped when the boy turned his head towards him, he saw great distrust and a little bit of anger in his eyes. Pulling his hand to his head, he took off his hunting cap. Sitting down on a rock he watched as the boy kneeled down beside the deer. He didn't know exactly what to say. Clearing his throat loudly, he reached forward and touched the boy's shoulder.

"Boy," Gregg said. "this isn't the best place for you, I am sure your parents would want you back at their camp."

"Mah pa ain't here," Four Way Shot said. "he's in Cali For Nay."

Turning his head slightly, Four Way Shot looked at the man's hands, he did not like that the man had touched him. Inside he felt great anger, he wanted to pull out one of his guns but he restrained himself. He had limited ammunition, enough to shoot each of his guns twice, not enough to go crazy on.

"You hungry son?" Gregg asked.

Turning around, Four Way Shot saw that the man was pulling out a small box, having had nothing to eat in a few hours he was slightly interested. His fathers words rang through his ears, not to take nothing from strangers. The man was pulling out what looked to be a few slices of cheese and some crackers.

"No thanky." Four Way Shot said, he didn't know he had said a thing until the man looked up.

"How long have you been away from home?" Gregg asked.

"I dunno," Four Way Shot sighed. "feels like forever."

"I ran away from home twice," Gregg said. "once when I was fourteen and the second time was when I was sixteen."

"Did ye git caught?" Four Way Shot asked.

Gregg looked up sharply, the boy had seated himself beside him and he had taken off his hat and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. Smiling warmly, he handed the boy a plate with three ham and cheese crackers. The boy gave a wicked smile, his cheeks rose high and his chin dropped low showing really white teeth, and grabbed one of the crackers.

"Yes, everyone is caught." Gregg sighed.

"Whut'd yer pa do to ye?" the boy asked.

"The usual," Gregg said. "I was whipped and grounded, for a right long while."

"Oh," the boy said. "a-why did ye run away?"

"My parents never did pay all that mind to me," Gregg said between mouthfuls. "I thought that me running away would get their attention."

"I a-runned away from home cuz I a-wanted to see Texas."

Lifting his head up and smiling a little Gregg remembered the time when he had said he was going to run away to join the circus. His mother had said nothing when he had said it and his father had been asleep at the time. He had been eight years old at the time. He would have gone too hadn't his aunt have been babysitting the next day.

"Are you an only child?" Gregg asked.

"Nah," the boy said. "I gots a lil' bro, Arson, he done runned away to."

"Both of you ran away from home?" Gregg asked shocked. "How old are you and your brother?"

"Imma nine," the boy said, wiping his mouth clean with his hand. "mah bro is five."

"You do know that one of these days your dad will catch up to both of you." Gregg said, it wasn't a question, it was a fact.

"O' course," the boy said quickly. "mah bro an' I both know that."

Picking himself up and dusting the seat of his pants, Four Way Shot waved goodbye to the man and continued his journey. He knew that one of these days his father was going to track him down, he had a good sense of direction and he knew his son well enough. Reaching into his shirt he pulled out his kerchief, it had the same design as his fathers but it was a totally different color, it was brown. Pushing a branch out of his way he stopped cold, in front of him was a train. Remembering his promise to his brother, he ran over and climbed into one of the cars.


	8. Chapter 8

Making his rounds around the station, Patrick Williamson kept his eyes open for thief's and for suspicious cargo that was being lowered from the cargo car on the train. There use to be a dog that use to do this job but the dog had been run over by a car a few days earlier and a substitute hadn't been found yet. Pulling a large box out of the way so that it wouldn't slow the terminal down, he didn't see the eyes that were staring out of one of the holes in the box.

Four Way Shot quickly silenced himself, he didn't want the man in front of him who was pulling the box to see or hear him. He had no idea where he was, all he knew was that he had climbed into one of the trains cars and had fallen asleep, when the train stopped he had fallen off of his sleeping spot into the box, the lid snapping shot and locking him inside with whatever was in it.

"I might as well check what's in here," Patrick sighed to himself. "don't want what happened last month to happen again." Grabbing a crowbar and shoving it in the top of the box, he quickly pried it open. Inside was a lot of clothing items and a computer, nothing of which to warrant a thorough search so he quickly nailed the top back on and sent the box on its way.

Poking his head out of the clothes and covering his mouth and nose with two of his four hands, the clothes had a really musty smell and there was a lot of dust in the box that were starting to effect him. He wished he wouldn't have lost his boots, his feet were cold. He still had one stick of jerky in his pocket and he still had the cherry as well. Finding himself really hungry, he opened the jerky and started eating it, when he went to eat the cherry he stopped. Remembering that his brother really loved cherries he wrapped it back up and placed it in his pocket.

"Sign here ma'am."

Opening his eyes quickly, Four Way Shot quickly pulled as much of the clothing he had over himself. It felt like forever for the box to be brought into the humans home, there was a lot of bouncing and it felt like it had bumped up against something, hard, there was a rip in the side. Peering out from it, he saw that he was in the living room.

"Thank you," Terri Smith said. "my fiance has been asking for these for awhile now, he'll be happy to know that they are finally here."

"A pleasure ma'am."

Grabbing a crowbar and slowly opening the box, being careful not to damage anything inside, Terri breathed a sigh of relief. Her fiance had sent for his parents to send him all of his clothes and his computer almost two months ago. His parents hadn't been the nicest people to get along with, they had tried to persuade him from proposing to her and they had also tried to make him stop seeing her. She had gotten good grades in high school, had been a cheerleader and had played softball all throughout middle and high school and she had a high paying job.

"Hey Rob," Terri yelled. "your package came."

"I'm on my way Ter," her fiance yelled. "give me a minute, I just got out the shower."

Pulling the top off all the way, Terri looked in the box. Inside was a pile of clothes, a few shirts and some torn pants, the main item in the box was his computer. A one and a half year old HP desktop. Reaching in, she started pulling the clothes out, for some reason they were stuck in the box. With a huge tug, she pulled a shirt out, and a small boy. Screaming and grabbing a broom, she swatted at the boy who ran towards the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" Terri screamed.

"Do hurt me!" the boy said fearfully. "I ain't a-gonna hurt ye!"

"Who are you" Terri asked again.

"Mah name is Fer Way Shot," the boy whimpered.

"Terri!"

Terri looked at the boy, he was shivering all over and wasn't wearing shoes. He had a rip in his brown shirt, he looked like he had walked through some mud, his pants were muddy. Placing the broom down, she ran to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

"Everything is fine down here," Terri yelled up. "I just killed a rat."

"Jesus Christ woman!" Rob yelled angrily. "Must have been a big rat for you to of screamed like that."

"It was," Terri said. "huge!"

"Woman, next time wait for me to come down," Rob shouted. "I'm the man in this house, I'm suppose to be the protector."

Shaking her head and laughing a little, Terri walked back to the boy. He was huddled up against the wall, shivering and moaning fearfully. Smiling, she walked towards the door intending to let the boy out. The boy stood up slowly and walked towards the box. Stopping and watching as the boy leaned over the box, she waited.

"Boy," she said. "what are you doing?"

"Gittin' mah hat."

The boy pulled himself up too fast and fell back, running forward Terri gently picked him up. Smiling to herself she went into the kitchen, when she returned she saw that the boy was trying to reach the door handle.

"Four Way Shot," Terri cooed. "come here."

Turning around slowly, Four Way Shot looked at the girl. She had black hair, brown eyes and tan skin. She was wearing a pink shirt, orange pants and brown sandals, she had three rings on her fingers and a necklace of gold shined from around her neck. In her han was, what it looked to be, a small piece of meat. His stomach started rumbling loudly, sighing loudly he walked forward. Stopping before he reached the box he shook his head.

"I gotta go," he said. "mah bro is a-waitin' fer me."

Turning around and jumping for the door handle, he tried to get out of the house. His hands barely touched the handle before he fell down. Slamming all four of his hands on the floor he growled angrily. Terri walked forward and grabbed the handle, reaching her hand out she handed the boy the piece of meat, of which he took and wrapped in a napkin, she thought she saw a little bit of red in the napkin. Once the door was open, the boy raced out.

Almost tripping on the cement, Four Way Shot ran as fast as he could, he could see a large building, a hospital, to his left and something was telling him to go to it. From a distance he saw that there was an ambulance parked up against one of the entrances, the doors were open, and there was also a blue Chevrolet parked in front of it. Running faster, he reached the drive and fell to his feet. The sun was setting and it was cold, shivering a little, he pulled himself up and started walking. The only thing on his mind was his little brother, how he was and where he was.

"That small boy that that girl brought in," a man said. "how is he?"

"He's been badly burned," said the receptionist. "but he's fine.

"Where is he?" the man asked.

"The doctor put him in room 208," the receptionist replied. "why? Is he your son?"

"No, the girl that brought him in told me about him and I got worried."

Hearing the news, Four Way Shot felt a burst of energy go through his body, he had a feeling that the boy that the two humans had been talking about was his brother. Walking in the man's shadow he followed him into an elevator. Waiting for it to go up felt like forever, a million thoughts went through his head about what would happen if his uncle found out about his son being admitted to a hospital. Tapping his foot on the floor, he looked up at the man, he hadn't noticed him yet.

The door to the elevator opened a few seconds later and running out before the man could step out, Four Way Shot raced down the hallway counting the numbers on the doors. He heard a scream and raced towards it. When he rounded the corner he saw his brother run out of a room with a man running trying to catch him. With a hyena laugh almost as evil as his fathers he pulled out a gun. Pulling the trigger nothing came out. Quickly replacing it with another of his guns, he pointed it at a tall blond man that had just picked up his brother.

"Leave mah bro alone!" he yelled. Pulling the trigger he shot the man in the center of his forehead. A nurse ran out, stopped for a second then ran at him. Grabbing another of his guns he pointed it at her and shot her in the leg. The man that had been chasing his brother first had stopped cold, keeping his eye on him he walked forward. The man that had picked his brother up had dropped him, jamming three of his four guns in their hollisters, he kneeled down beside his brother. His brother was heavily bandaged up, his flamethrower included, his brother was wearing a blue hospital gown with yellow ducks. Placing his arms, all four of them, around his brother he picked him up.

"Bro, bro can ye breathe?" he asked.

Feeling his brother nod his head, he stood up straight and started to walk down the hall. Keeping his eye on the man that was pressed up against the wall and keeping his gun ready, just in case it needed to be used. Turning around before he reached the corner, he eyeballed everyone, the nurse that he had wounded had her hands over her head, the blond doctor he had shot in the head layed motionless on the floor, the doctor that was pressed up against the wall looked like he was going to faint. Nodding his head and clearing his throat, he turned around and headed for an open elevator.


	9. Part 3: Final Fire

Waking himself slowly, his vision still not cleaned, Arson felt something cold on his head. Still believing that he was in the hospital and had been caught and restrained by the doctor, he started thrashing his arms and legs around.

"Bro, bro yer a-fine," Four Way Shot said soothingly. "nobody is a-gonna hurt ye agin!"

Letting his eyes glow as bright as they could go, Arson pulled his head to the side. His brother was sitting beside him on a milk carton, a knife in one of his hands and an apple in another. Smiling warmly his brother reached over and placed a hand that wasn't busy on his shoulder.

"You're late." Arson said, half jokingly.

"Imma sorry," his brother said. "I done got caught up."

"Your dad?" Arson asked fearfully.

"Nah, ding dang humans stoppin' the car an' all." Four Way Shot growled.

Looking at his brother, Arson could tell that he, too, had also had an eventful trip. He wasn't wearing his boots, his pants were muddy and there was a few rips in his shirt, mainly in the top two arms. There was a cut to his arm and it looked like there was a nasty cut to his foot as well. Placing his arms behind him, he pulled himself halfway up.

"I see you fared better than me." Arson said.

"No, not really." Four Way Shot sighed. "some feller done stole all mah money."

Thinking back to a few days before, Four Way Shot remembered waking up to finding a man over top of him, searching his pockets. He had acted fast, fast enough to stop the man from taking his guns and what little ammunition he had left but not fast enough to stop the man from stealing every cent he had on him. The man had jumped the train before he could fire a shot. He had almost fallen out as well, there had been a handle and he had grabbed onto it just in time, there had been a bridge that the train was going over at the time and if he would have fallen he would of probably not be getting up, at least not in one piece.

"Humans," Arson snarled. "no good rotten thieves all of them!"

"Ye got any money?" Four Way Shot asked.

"Do you see any clothes on me?" Arson yelled, angrily.

"Whut done happened to ye?" Four Way Shot asked, ignoring his brothers outburst.

"I fell in a stupid French Fry Cooker man!"

Dropping the apple, which was almost all the way peeled of its outer shell, Four Way Shoot placed one set of hands around his mouth and the other two around his body. Trying hard, he tried to stop the giggles. His brother eyed him coldly,the red background of his eyes bright and the orange and yellow star burst brighter.

"What's so fucking funny?" Arson screamed.

"Whut, ye couldn't wait fer them to cook?" Four Way Shot asked, trying to hold the urge to laugh in.

"No, lets just say they..."Arson said, swallowing hard. "hypnoteezed me ya know."

"Shor they did!" Four Way Shot laughed, not being able to hold it in anymore.

Looking at his brother angrily, Arson threw the sheet off of him and lunged, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. His shoulders still hurt him, as did his hand and back, but he got his point across. With a hard punch to his brothers stomach, he sent his brother against the wall. Raising his arms in submission, Four Way Shot both gave up and stopped laughing. The napkin that was in his pocket fell out.

"That's fer ye," Four Way Shot said. "I done thought ye'd be hungry."

Pulling the napkin open, Arson squealed, inside was a cherry, a stick of jerky and what looked to be a small thing of meat. Grabbing the meat first, and forgetting totally that his brother was nearby, he ate. Before he could grab the cherry his brother placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to both slow up and to save the fruit for last. Flashing his eyes, his way of showing that he was rolling them, he grabbed the jerky and started eating that.

"You have no idea how good this tastes," Arson said. "a whole lot better than what they give at that damn hospital."

"Must be good," his four armed brother said. "the way yer a-gobblin' it all up an' all."

"Got anymore?" Arson asked, still hungry, he had just finished the cherry.

"Imma sorry bro," his brother said sadly. "that's all I got."

"I can walk and all," Arson said, thinking aloud. "why don't both of us go out and find some money."

"I dunno bro," Four Way Shot said, looking over his shoulder. "why don't I a-go an' find somethin'?"

"Look, man, we are in this together," Arson said, frustrated. "plus, I need to get some new clothes."

Sighing loudly, knowing that his brother wasn't going to stay behind, Four Way Shot nodded his head. Taking his vest and shirt off, he handed it to his brother who wrapped it around himself. He looked funny with two extra arms in the shirt and it looked two sizes too small, but it was working for now. He had grabbed a jacket and had cut the sleeves off, handing that to his brother, who slipped it around his waist, he hid a laugh. His brother looked funnier than ever.

"How do I look?" Arson asked, blushing slightly.

"Heeeeeeuh heeeeeuh," his brother laughed. "it'll work fer now."

"Quit laughing man," Arson growled. "would you prefer me to be walking through the streets naked?"

"Hell no!" Four Way Shot yelled. "Yer point has been a-takin'."

"Then lets go!"

Walking down the street, half naked, cold and holding two of his hands close to his guns, Four Way Shot didn't miss a thing. His brother was right beside him, he looked even funnier out in the open, it looked like he was wearing a skirt and a blouse. A rat scurried past and he almost pulled his gun out. Taking a deep breath in and letting it go, he followed his brother into a store on the corner.

"Bro," Arson whispered. "quiet, we cannot be caught!"

Watching and guarding the small rack of clothes that his brother had disappeared into a few minutes before, Four Way Shot waited patiently. When they had left home his brother had been wearing a dark brown jacket, the same color as his vest, a steel gray long sleeve shirt, blood red pants and blood red boots, you couldn't really tell that they were red unless he was in direct light, he wondered what his brother was picking out to wear.

"Bro," Four Way Shot whispered. "whut's a -takin' ye so long?"

"A minute more is all I ask."

Tapping his finger against the end of one of his guns he wished he could whistle. Unlike his father, who couldn't for the life of himself whistle a note, he could. Hearing his brother push something out of the way he turned. He felt like his eyes had popped out of their sockets. Arson handed him his shirt then walked to a mirror.

"What?" Arson whispered agitated.

"Nothin'."

Arson looked like he had been dressed by a biker, he was wearing a black leather jacket with red leather stitched inside, a red shirt, and a pair of black pants. His boots were black, as shiny as can be, with a chain around the side. Pulling the jacket close and turning around slowly, Arson checked himself out in the mirror.

"Bro," Four Way Shot started to say. "have I ever told ye that ye got a wicked sense o' style?"

"No, never," his fiery brother said over his shoulder. "but thanks for the compliment."

Motioning for his brother to come along, Four Way Shot walked out the door. A cat ran past, chasing a rat and a dog barked in the distance. Looking behind him he saw that his brother was a step behind him. Walking forward, Four Way Shot led his brother to a small food cart, he could smell hot dogs.

"Ye still hungry bro?" Four Way Shot asked.

"Damn right I am man!" Arson said loudly.

The person that usually would be standing at the cart was gone, it was standing on the curve unattended. Looking both ways, making sure that no one was in sight, Four Way Shot quickly climbed the cart. When he was high enough, he grabbed a thing of hot dogs, hot as can be, and handed them down to his brother, who acted like he was going to eat them on the way down.

"We best git out o' here." Four Way Shot said quickly.

"This part of town looks good enough to warrant a stay for awhile." Arson said.

Walking back to the building that they had walked out of a few hours later, both boys climbed the stairs and walked side by side through the door. Four Way Shot had carried his brother a few miles to this place, it was warm enough and it offered some sort of cover from the weather. Sitting himself on the milk carton, he threw all four arms behind him and fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Waking a few hours later, Four Way Shot looked around. The place were he thought his brother would be sleeping was unoccupied, his leather jacket with the red leather interior was open on the mat but his brother wasn't in it. Shaking his head, thinking his brother had gotten up to use the bathroom and had left his jacket behind, he sat himself up slowly. It was morning, the sun was just barely peaking itself from the clouds and there was a gentle breeze in the air. He smelled fresh Pretzels and hot dogs. Pulling his head to the side, hearing a door open, he saw his brother walk in with a can of Butane.

"What?" his brother asked. Pulling his shirt off and opening the small valve to his flamethrower he started refilling his flamethrower. He didn't know how but it had been repaired and could be used without fear of dripping Butane all over the place and setting himself on fire. After filling his Butane tank and closing the valve he turned to his brother who hand his hands in fists.

"Ye went out without me!" Four Way Shot yelled.  
"Yeah," Arson said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. "I ran out of Butane so I went and got some."

"Whut do ye mean ye ran out o' bootane?" Four Way Shot yelled.

"I used it a few times and it ran out." Arson replied, frustrated.

"Why didn't ye wait fer me to wake up?" For Way Shot asked. "I could o' helped ye git it."

"I didn't want to disturb you," his brother said, shaking his head. "you looked comfortable."

Running as fast as he could, Four Way Shot flattened his brother to the ground. His brother kicked his legs and grabbed his shoulders. Punching his brother in the stomach, Four Way Shot yelled.

"Get off of me!" Arson yelled. With a good swift kick, Four Way Shot fell to the floor. "What's the big deal? I went out and got some Butane, of which I needed, you know I can't use my flamethrower without the stuff man."

"The deal is that ye could o' been hurt," his four armed brother said from the floor. "ye should o' woke me."

"I'm not a baby man," Arson snarled down at his brother. "and I surely don't need for you to start acting like my old man!"

"I ain't a-tryin' to act like yer pa!" Four Way Shot said, picking himself up slowly from the floor. "I'm a-tryin' to make shur yer a-safe."

"Dude! If I would have gotten into any trouble I would have hid myself, refilled my flamethrower then I would have had a bar-be-que." Arson yelled.

Looking down at his brother, standing straight, Four Way Shot remembered the fight that had happened the night they had ran away. Arson had asked if he could have a snack and his father had said no, the usual fight where a boy wouldn't let up. It had made his father angry enough to say a lot of things that had stunned all of them.

"Dad, can I get a snack?" Arson had asked.

"No, son." his father said.

"Why not?" his brother begged, hungry.

"Because it's almost supper time." his father said, he had picked up a glass and had been pouring himself a glass of wine, his favorite relaxing drink.

"The caretakers say that it'll be awhile." his brother had yelled. "please dad..."

"Did you not hear me you little brat!" his father yelled, he had almost dropped the wine bottle.

"I am not a brat," Arson had screamed. "if it's anyone you are the brat!"

His brother had ran forward after saying that, had started punching his father in the side. His father, stronger and a lot more faster, had turned around and had broad-sided his brother. His brother had fallen to the side and had grabbed the side of his face, tears had ran down from his eyes and he had started sobbing. His father had stood above him, fuming, his shoulders rising with each breath. Four Way Shot couldn't take it anymore, he had stepped in and had tried to defend his brother.

"Ye leave him alone!" he had said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You stay out of this boy." his fire uncle had snarled down at him. He had wrapped his hand around one of his arms and had started to pull him away from his brother.

"Git off o' me!" he had yelled, punching his uncle in the stomach a few times.

"Son!" his father had said, running from the side of the room. "Ye come over here now."

He had done what his father had told him, standing next to his father who pretty much towered above him he looked at his brother. His uncle had stooped down and was grabbing his arm, was pulling him up to his feet.

"Shut up that baby crying!" his uncle had yelled. "It's giving me a headache."

"You hit me..." his brother had said, still crying.

"Damn right I did," his father had said. "you don't stop that crying in two minutes I will give you something to cry about!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

His uncle had arched his back when Arson had screamed _you wouldn't dare_, he had stayed like that for a few seconds then he had turned around and had started undoing his belt. A nightmare to any boy would be getting spanked with a belt, so he had pushed his father out of the way and had slammed himself into his uncle, making him stumble a few steps. The glass that he had placed on the table, which had been empty, had fallen and had shattered on the floor.

"Don't ye hurt mah bro!" he had yelled.

"Not a problem," his uncle had snarled menacingly. "I'll just show both of you who's boss."

He had moved much too slow, his uncle wrapped his flamethrower around his waist and had picked him up, placing him on his knee. His brother, still on the floor, scrambled up and had tried to rush forward but had tripped on the carpet. The belt, the black belt with the silver belt, had been raised several times. The deed done, he had been allowed to fall to the floor, weeping in pain and wanting to repay the favor to his uncle.

"Yer a mean ol' man!" he had screamed, still crying.

"That so," his uncle yelled. "both of you get your asses upstairs."

"I hate you!" his brother had shouted. "I wish I would have never been created by that bolt of lightning."

"And sometimes I wish the same damn thing." his uncle had growled.

Both boys had raced upstairs, his brother had slammed his door hard, an echo had rang through the whole house and he could hear him crying. He, on the other hand, had closed his door slowly and had sat himself on his bed. The first thing he had grabbed was his stuffed horse, Rocky.

"Bro," Four Way Shot sighed. "did ye really mean whut ye done told yer pa?"

"I really don't feel like talking about my old man." his brother said anrgily.

"Ye know yer pa and mah pa is a-gonna catch up to us one o' these days right." he said, sitting down on the milk carton.

"Yeah right!" his brother screamed. "you think our dad's are looking for us? They are probably glad to be rid of us!"

"Nah, Imma shur they is a-lookin' fer us." Four Way Shot said.

"Yeah," his brother growled. "that'll be the day pigs'll fly."

"Imma serious," Four Way Shot sighed, digging two of his hands in his pockets.

"Dude, do you think for a minute that your old man cares for you when he allowed my old man to pelt you the way he did?" Arson yelled. "Come on now."

Thinking back, he remembered that when he had been pulled over his uncles knee his father had been standing in the same place he had left him in, his arms had been crossed and he had a mad look on his face. Shaking his head and standing up, he walked over to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I guess ye is a-right." he said, patting his brothers shoulder.

"Did you hear what he said to me?" Arson cried. "That he agreed when I had said that I wished I wouldn't have been created."

"I shur did," Four Way Shot sighed. "yer pa was a-mad an' he a-wasn't thinkin'."

"No, he was thinking. " Arson sighed. "I saw it in his eyes, he meant what he said."

"Imma shur yer pa didn't mean it," Four Way Shot said, pulling his brother close for a hug.

"He did mean it Four Way," Arson cried into his brothers shoulder. "he doesn't care for me, he never has."

"Shur he does," his brother said, kissing him on the cheek.

"No man," Arson yelled, pulling himself away from his brother. "remember that time when I told you that my dad had walked into my room and had sat on the end of my bed? Remember what I told you that he had told me?"

He remembered right well. His brother had pulled him to the side one day after he had fed and checked the chickens for eggs and had told him that his father had mentioned that he didn't like kids, but that he didn't mind his son at all. With an understanding smile and another hug, Four Way Shot made for the door, intended to go out for a little while and be alone.

"Bro, Imma a-gonna be out fer a lil' while alrighty." Four Way Shot said. "I'll a-be back soon."


	11. Chapter 11

Walking down the street, a few miles from his brother, there were two spots that caught his attention. On one side of him stood a food store and on the other was a bar. There had been one time that he had tried whiskey, the stuff his father drank on occasion, and it hadn't been all that pleasant. Still, curiosity won out, he waited by the bar door, waited for a human to walk out so that he could slip in. He didn't have to wait long, a man with curly red hair stepped out a minute later.

"Last day of the rest of my life, I wish I would have known cause I'd have kissed my momma goodbye. I didn't tell her that I loved her or how much cared or thank my pops for all the talks and all the wisdom he shared. Unaware I just did what I always do. Everyday the same routine before I skate off to to school but who knew that."

There were two sections in the bar, one was roped off and the other wasn't. Several tables were full, one wasn't. Pulling the chair back, he sat down. There were a few people his size in the bar so he hid his extra arms and pulled his hat low, like his father had when he had taken him to a local bar in California a few months earlier.

"This day wasn't like the rest, instead of takin the test I took two in the chest. Call me blind but I didn't see it comin and everybody was running but I couldn't hear nothin, except gun blast, it happened so fast I didn't really know this kid though I sat by him in class. Maybe this kid was reachin out for love or maybe for a moment he forgot who he was or maybe this kid just wanted to be hugged, whatever it was I know it's because..."

Pulling his top left hand up and calling a waitress over, she was a pretty girl in her late twenties with black hair and green eyes, her black dress high, the top of it open enough, tall high heeled shoes on her feet. Walking quickly to him, she almost tripped and fell.

"And what can I get for you?" the waitress asked.

"Kin I git a Jack Daniel's?" Four Way Shot asked, pulling his hat down lower. "Tennessee ma'am."

"Right away sir!"

Watching the waitress walk away, bouncing herself all along the way, made him feel funny. It felt like he had bounced along with her, following her. Shaking his head a little, head turned towards the television. There was a Baseball game on, not one of the sports that he liked. He was more of a Football and soccer lover, his father also loved Football, but he very much hated the game of soccer. Hearing the waitress return, he turned towards her.

"Here you go sir," the waitress said. "fresh out of the box."

"Thanky."

The waitress stared the the boy, she was bent low over the table and he was able to look right into the top of her dress. Shrugging her shoulders and walking away, grabbing a tray along the way, she could have sworn she had just seen the boy a few moments before. Four Way Shot felt himself jump and bounce again, grabbing the shot glass and taking a small sip from it, holding the urge to make a disgusted sound. He felt himself jump again, a lot higher than last time.

"Hello sir, glad to have you here," another waitress greeted the customer behind him. "what is that you'd like to have?"

The music had been turned up a little and he hadn't been able to hear what the man behind him was ordering, he could have sworn that he had heard his fathers voice though. Tapping his foot, he still hadn't found himself a new pair of boots and the cut on his foot was starting to hurt him some, he ordered another glass, this time Pendleton, a drink he hadn't tried. When the waitress brought him his drink she left quickly.

"So what brings you back here so soon?" the waitress asked when she returned to the man behind him.

The music was too loud and he was beginning to feel himself get a little dizzy. When he finished the Pendleton Whiskey he asked the waitress when she returned for a Wild Turkey. Promising her that this was his last drink, he leaned back in his seat. The game was fuzzy but he could tell that his team was winning. When the waitress brought him his drink he said thanks and took a sip. The taste almost made his mouth turn inside out, the Whiskey tasted like pine needles and cough syrup. Not wanting to waste the drink, he finished it.

"Sir, you've been here for three hours are you planning on paying for your drinks?"

Picking his head up off of the table, feeling like shit, Four Way Shot looked around. Besides everything being fuzzy, he could see that the bar was still packed with humans. Shaking his head, which felt like jello, he pushed himself upright. The waitress was standing above him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Gimme a minute ma'am." he said. "Lemmee gather mah noodles."

"Don't take to long mister," the waitress said into his ear. "my shift ends in a few minutes."

"Ma'am, if he ain't a-wantin' to pay ye then I will."

Sobering up quickly and turning himself around quickly, his eyes nearly popped out of his face. Sitting behind him was his father. Raising a glass of whiskey and drawing it down in one gulp, his father stood up. Standing at least twenty seven inches, strong as can be and anger flowing from his eyes, he started walking forward, one of his hands was behind his back, probably pulling his wallet out.

"Alright, it's a hundred and twenty dollars." the waitress said.

"Lets jus' say I give ye a hunert an' fifty," his father said, one eye on his son.

"Why thank you sir," the waitress sang. "you have a nice night now."

You have a nice night now, she had said you have a nice night now to both of them but she had no idea what was about to happen. Scrambling up from his chair, almost tripping on one of the table legs, Four Way Shot raced out of the bar. Shoving the door open and screaming into the night, he raced towards the building that he had walked out of a few hours before. Turning his head around he saw that his father was walking out of the bar.

"That's a-fine son," his father yelled. "I'll a-be comin' fer ye soon."

Turning a corner, not watching where he was putting his feet he tripped and re-opened the cut on his foot, his top teeth clamped down on his lower lip, he tasted blood. His knee scraped the ground, he felt it starting to throb, he could just imagine how bad it was. Jumping up and limping away, he saw the building where he had come from. He had to tell his brother that they had been found.

Opening the door and running up the stairs, he felt blood falling down his leg and the pain in his foot was almost unbearable, he screamed at the top of his lungs his brothers name.

"Arson!"

When his brother didn't answer the first thing that ran through his head was that his uncle was up there and had him in his arms. Grabbing the rail and taking the steps two at a time, he raced up. Shoving the door open he breathed a sigh of relief. His brother was getting up off of the mat, obviously he had been asleep.

"What the hell man," Arson yelled. "I was asleep damnit!"


	12. Chapter 12

Running over to his brother and pulling his arm, Four Way Shot tried to get him on his feet. Pulling his arm loose Arson stood up, he didn't know what all the commotion was about and he didn't like it. Looking down he saw that his brother's knee was torn open, bleeding bad, and his foot was in no better condition, it looked worse than it did when he had left. Four Way Shot was breathing heavily, wheezing at times, and he was crying.

"What happened to you?" Arson asked.

"We gotta git out o' here!" Four Way Shot exclaimed, breathing heavily.

"What? You see a mouse bigger than usual or something?" Arson said sarcastically.

"I a-went to the saloon down the road a bit," Four Way Shot explained quickly. "I a-ordered a few drinks an'....an'..."

"And?"

Pulling his brother to the mat and pushing him down onto it, Arson tried calming him. His brother, with each word, would raise his hands and swipe at the air, causing him to stand a few feet away from him. Tears were running down his face faster than he could talk. Walking over to a pail of water and dipping a rag in it, he intended to clean the wound on Four Way Shot's knee. His brother's pant leg was almost as red as the leather that was inside his jacket and it was dripping on the floor, whenever his brother put his foot he left a bloody print.

"An' mah pa was thar!" Four Way Shot screamed at the top of his lungs.

Standing just about as straight as he could, almost dropping the rag in his hand, Arson stood stunned by his brother's words. A few minutes past then he started laughing. He remembered the time that Four Way Shot had been discovered housing a snake, a Red-bellied Snake, in one of his pants pockets. It had been his father that had dug in his pockets when he had seen that he was walking funny, it had been right funny seeing his father yank his hand out, with the snake attached to the end of one of his fingers. It had freaked everyone out, and Four Way Shot had disappeared for four hours, his uncle had found him lying under a pile of logs. Turning around and walking towards his brother, who was looking at him coldly, his face red and swollen from crying.

"I think I need to sober you up some," Arson said, pressing the rag against his brother's knee. "you aren't making any sense."

"Ye don't believe me!" Four Way Shot yelled, shoving him hard. "He was thar and he's a-comin' fer me!"

"Let me clean your knee," Arson said, ignoring the shove. "then I'll take you to that drink store."

Cleaning both wounds had been the easy part, getting his brother to calm down was another. All the way down the stairs and out the door to the building that they were staying in his brother hadn't shut up about seeing his father. Arson really highly doubted that he had seen his father, after all he had said he had been drinking. He very much could have thought he had seen his father. Pushing his brother to the red and white stand with the same colored table with umbrella, he shook his head. Alongside the drink stand was a hot dog and pretzel stand, and he was hungry.

"Will you calm down," Arson said, frustrated. "get a lemonade or something."

His brother just sat there, turning his head from side to side, one set of hands against his legs and the others in fists against the table. Letting his eyes glow a little, he ordered both of them a lemonade. When the drinks came he found himself the only one drinking. All his brother did was hide his face in two of his hands.

"Come on bro," Arson sighed. "you really don't believe that you saw your father. You were drinking after all."

"Nah, he a-was thar," Four Way Shot said, picking the glass up. "he a-paid fer mah drinks."

"By any chance did the Tooth Fairy fly down from the ceiling and take you to the magical land of Oz as well?" Arson asked, laughing.

Four Way Shot slammed his glass on the table hard, lemonade spilled from the top. Pulling his head up and slamming a fist on the table, he couldn't believe that his brother didn't believe him. He had seen his father, he had payed for all of his drinks and he had yelled that he was coming for him soon.

"Imma serious," Four Way Shot exclaimed.

"Look man, the whole reason why we are here is to calm you down," Arson yelled. "if you don't start calming down then we're going back in that building. You are embarrassing me!"

Looking at his brother, his eyes glowing brightly, he saw that he wasn't going to calm down anytime soon. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and started walking away. He didn't care if his brother followed him to the building or not, he wanted some peace and quiet. Placing his hand on the railed and trailing it as he walked up the stairs, he turned his head around. His brother was a few steps behind him.

"I guess ye is a-right." Four Way Shot said. "I gotta git some rest, I done drank too much."

Holding the door open for his brother, Arson helped his brother up the stairs. His brother was limping badly, each step looked like it hurt more than the other. Once they were in the room he pulled his brother over to the mat. Four Way Shot layed on it and fell asleep before his head could fall. With a smile, Arson grabbed a grayish, purple colored sheet and placed it over his brother.

A few minutes past before he made his mind up to walk out of the building towards the pretzel stand. When his brother had been gone he had found a man sleeping on the steps, his wallet had had a twenty and a ten dollar bill in it. He had taken the ten dollar bill, leaving the twenty for the man. Walking up to the stand, he asked for a large pretzel which cost him two dollars. Sitting himself at the table across from the one that he and his brother had been a few minutes earlier, he started eating it.

Pulling the sheet over his brother, checking him an hour later, Arson sighed. Sitting on a plate was half a pretzel, he had eaten two and had asked for a third for his brother. For some reason it had come untied on the way up and he had tried wrapping it back into the position it had been bought in, when it had unwrapped itself again he had just shrugged his shoulders, wrapped or unwrapped it would be going in the same place that every food item went to when he and his brother ate, his stomach.

"No pa, lemmee sleep a lil' more."

Letting his jaw drop a little, smiling some, he placed both of his hands on his brother's shoulders. Stopping for a minute, thinking, he leaned over and shouted in his brother's ear. Four Way Shot jumped out of bed, the sheet that had been over his body flew down gently to the ground. Falling back, laughing hard, Arson pointed his finger at him.

"Oh your dad," Arson laughed. "oh your dad!"

"Shut up!"

Grabbing his vest and slipping around himself, Four Way Shot looked around. The first thing that came to his mind was when his father was going to come running in. He could just imagine what would happen, his brother would probably be the first to be caught, he was a little bit slower in speed than he, he'd probably be standing with his mouth wide open, eyes glowing red, the yellow and orange star burst in the middle glowing brighter. Walking forward, acting like there was nothing wrong, he slammed his shoulder into his brother.

"Alright, alright," Arson said. "no need for violence man."

"That's a-better." Four Way Shot said, walking away. "Imma hungry."

"I have a pretzel over here," Arson said. "if you want it, you can have it."

Walking over to the pretzel, which was on a plate and stretched out a little, Four Way Shot felt his mouth water. The pretzel wouldn't be enough to appease his appetite, he needed more. With a sigh he grabbed one end and tore it off, shoving it in his mouth he started chewing. Arson was standing on the other side of the room, looking out the large window which had a large crack in it. Neither of them looked up at the window above them.

"Tastes good yes," Four Way Shot said. "but Imma still hungry."

Arson said nothing, it became very quiet in the room, so quiet that a cricket could be heard. Finishing the pretzel and balling the plate up, Four Way Shot threw it outside. Turning around, he heard the sound of glass breaking. Pulling his head up he saw something falling from the window down at them.

Turning around quickly and pulling his head up, Arson's eyes lit up bright. A few piece of glass hit up against his face, cutting him a little. What looked to be a giant orange cat falling from the roof was actually his dad. His father was jumping from the roof of their building down to their floor. When he landed on their floor he turned directly at him, his red eyes brighter than ever. His jacket was open, the belt was missing, and the wind from the broken window caught it, blowing it around him.

"About damn time I caught up with you!" he said.


	13. Chapter 13

Looking at his uncles back, Four Way Shot didn't know about the missing belt or that his jacket was open all the way, all he knew was that his uncle was here. His uncle was wearing a pair of gray pants, a darker gray almost black long sleeve button up shirt and a khaki, or desert tan, jacket and black combat boots on his feet, he didn't know if his uncle was wearing the gold eagle on his left breast pocket. Poking his head around his uncle he looked at his brother, who looked like he had seen a ghost. Arson's mouth was half open, his eyes were bright and his flamethrower was raised a little.

"S'up son." he heard his uncle say.

A song blared through Four Way Shot's ears, it had been on a few hours before the fight between his uncle and his brother. It was one of the most played songs on the radio back home.

"I'm hot. And when I'm not. I'm cold as ice. See me comin'. Step aside. Or pay the price. What I want I take. What I don't break. And I don't want you. With a flick of my knife. I can change my life. There's nothing you can do. Cause I'm a problem child."

Hearing a sound, a click, behind him, Four Way Shot turned around. Standing by the door, his hand resting gently on the handle, was his father. He still had a lot of anger in his eyes, they were glaring at him, like a predator eying his prey before he started the chase. Looking at his father's vest and belt, he saw that all six of his guns were in their hollisters.

"W...what are you doing here?" his brother asked, stepping back a few feet.

"I think that question should be directed to yourself." his father growled.

Stepping slowly around his uncle, far enough away from his grasp, Four Way Shot kept his eyes on his father. His father was wearing a white long sleeve button shirt, four extra arms stitched on to accommodate for his extra arms, a vest of brown over it housed a set of Colt. 64's, a red kerchief of the same design as his, a pair of blue jeans, a black belt held them up and it housed four more hollisters and four more Colt. 64's, and black cowboy boots with gold spurs and a black cowboy hat.

"Bro..." Four Way Shot said slowly.

His uncle jumped a little then turned his head slightly, looked him straight in the eye. He now noticed that he wasn't wearing a belt and that his jacket was open, the wind from outside was blowing it even more open, he saw the gold eagle on his left breast pocket. His uncle's eyes were lit, bright red, and his mouth was a little open.

"I see you two have stayed together," his uncle said, sneering. "glad for that."

"How did ye find us?" Four Way Shot asked, he was fighting the urge to cry and to beg for mercy.

"Wasn't difficult," his uncle snapped.

"Ye left a caty-log on yer bed 'bout Texas," his father said. "Ban'era was the page it a-was turned to."

Turning his head to his brother, Four Way Shot could see that he was just about as shocked as he was, maybe more. Balling one of his hands up, he punched his brother in the shoulder. His brothers eyes flashed on and off then he walked forward two steps, his mouth opened and he started growling.

"Sweet golden mother of holy flaming damnation!" Arson screamed. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"Watch your mouth boy!" his father yelled.

"No, I won't." Arson snarled, stepping forward and raising his flamethrower a little. "You shouldn't be here!"

"An' neither should ye!" his uncle said, stepping beside his father.

"Finding him was easy," Arson yelled, feeling the anger soar in his body and forgetting that his brother was beside him. "how'd you find me?"

"Hmmm," his father said, placing a finger to his jaw. "could you have said something on the way up to your room about running away to Virginia?"

Looking beside him, Arson saw that his brother was holding himself against the window. His eyes were staring at his father, they showed great fear and he could see his body shivering a little. It looked like he was holding tears in, his eyes looked to be getting moist. Turning back to his father and his uncle, he raised his flamethrower higher, he didn't intend to go without a fight.

"Make your move old man," Arson challenged. "me and my brother are not going without a fight."

"Is that a-so," his multi-armed uncle said. "looks like mah son is a-gonna crack here real soon."

"I wasn't talking to you!" Arson screamed, he began to worry, his brother wasn't saying a thing, wasn't doing a thing. It was all he, he was the only one challenging the two elders in front of him.

His uncle stepped forward, walked towards his brother. With an animal snarl Arson lit his flamethrower and made him pull back. His father, with an equal weapon that he knew how to use and when to use, stepped forward. Their eyes met for only a second, feeling a pull on his arm and turning around he saw his brother pulling him back.

"Lets git out o' here!" Four Way Shot whispered. "This ain't the place to be a-fightin'."

Turning around turned out to be a big mistake, both boys were in front of the window and their fathers were in front of them, blocking their only safe way of escape. Hearing a growl, Arson turned around. His father was running towards him, his mouth open, the light that came from the cracks in the wood caught his bottom teeth, made him look like he was rapid. Jumping back into his brother he heard glass break and he felt himself fall.

Not being able to do much of anything, his brother had moved much too fast, Four Way Shot was the first to fall out of the window. Grabbing onto the pane and closing his eyes, pain ran all the way up his hand, he held on tightly. Seeing his brother fall past one set of hands he screamed, he wouldn't, couldn't, let nothing happen to him. Stretching one of his lower hands out, he clasped his brother's jacket. When his brother felt him tugging on his jacket he looked up, pulling his hand up he grabbed Four Way Shot's hand, making him release his jacket.

"Bro..!" Arson screamed. "Please don't let go!"

"Not on yer life!" his brother yelled.

Hearing the glass break Four Way Shot pulled his head up. Standing above him, his boots on either side of his hand, was his uncle. The wind caught his jacket, blowing it all around, the wind also caught his pants. He looked into his uncle's eyes, they weren't bright red anymore, they were turned off. Tearing his eyes away from his uncle, he didn't know how long he and his uncle stared at each other, could have been a few seconds to a minute or two, he looked down. There was a fire escape below them, a boarded up window would allow them some time to climb down it to safety.

"Bro, swing to that thar fire escape." Four Way Shot yelled. He felt his brother swing gently, the fire escape was just a foot below them, his hand slipped and he felt the glass push farther into himself. His blood dripped down his open palm and fell to his face. It felt like forever. Pulling his head up, he saw his uncle slowly dropping down to one knee.

Swinging a leg over the railing, Arson slowly allowed his hand to fall out of his brother's. He didn't feel like ripping his jacket, he had grown rather fond of it, having asked his father plenty of times if he could find him one and getting a no every time. Rolling around to his belly and fully releasing his brother's hand, he looked up. He couldn't see what his father was doing, but he could tell that Four Way Shot was about to fall. He grabbed onto his brother's boot, intending to help him down.

"Grab a-hold of my hand boy."

Feeling himself screaming inside, scared as can be, opening his mouth wide and screaming at the top of his lungs no, Four Way Shot released his hand from the sill and fell. His uncle's reaction was surprising, he reached his hand down and swiped, the tips of his fingers brushed up against his. Blinking his eyes a few times, screaming at the top of his lungs and thrashing his arms around trying to catch onto something, he passed his brother who started screaming as well.

Seeing his brother fall was one of the worse things he had ever experienced in his life. Everything went slow, it felt like it took forever for his brother to slam into a clothes line then slam into the ground, shoulder first. Running down the stairs as fast as he could, tripping a few times, Arson made his way down. He didn't know what he would see, his brother lying on his side with blood gushing from the side of his face almost dead, his brother lying on the ground crying in pain, permanently paralyzed or his brother just knocked out cold. He hoped for the latter. He could just imagine what his father and uncle were doing, they were probably tearing down the stairs as fast as they could. Falling down the last few steps but bouncing back up, he raced to his brother's side.

"Bro..."Arson said, he was holding back tears. "bro are you okay?"

Placing his hands on his brother's shoulders and slowly shaking them, thinking his was asleep, he started thinking and remembering all the fun times he and his brother had had. Him pushing his brother in the pig pen, getting both of them muddy from wrestling, and chasing the chickens and driving their father's crazy at times. Smoking with his brother behind an old rusty car, playing games in the barn loft, pranking each other, daring each other to run around naked in the barn yard and making their father's chase them. Feeling tears roll down his cheeks he shook his brother harder, there was no blood, his brother had knocked a few clothes down from the lines and was lying in them, they had cushioned the fall.

"Bro, please wake up," he cried. "I don't care if my dad or your dad catches us, right now I want you to wake up."

The memory that stood out most was when he and his brother had been left alone one night, no caretakers and none of their uncle's or aunt in sight. Both of them had been hungry and had raided the cabinets, everything that had been in them had been pulled out. The fun had started when his brother had found a thing of chocolate syrup. It was new, unopened, and it had taken both boys to open it. They had turned the kitchen into a syrup slide and their father's had walked in right when he had been sliding into the kitchen table. It had been a lot of fun.

His eyes were clouding up, his vision was blurry and he was having problems breathing. Placing his hand on his brother's face and turning it towards him, he kissed him. There were very few times that he had actually given his brother a kiss, his brother would at times kiss him but it was also a rare event.

"Uhhhhh gross," he heard. "why ye gotta be all kissin' an' all with me?"

Letting his eyes glow bright, he looked down, his brother's arm was at an angle and he was pushing himself up. With a sigh of relief he wrapped his arm and flamethrower around his brother, hugging him tightly. He cried into his brother shoulder, his hand started feeling his brothers arms and legs, making sure his brother was okay.

"Stop!" Four Way Shot screamed. "Imma fine!"

"I'm sorry," Arson cried. "you fell and I thought you wasn't going to wake up."

"Be glad them clothes done saved me." Four Way Shot said, pulling himself shakily to his feet. "Whar's our pa's?"

"I don't know," Arson said, wiping his face clean. "probably running down the stairs."

"Lets git out of here," Four Way Shot said, taking a few shaky steps away from the spot he had fallen. "gots to git far away from 'em."


	14. Chapter 14

Hearing the door slam against the wall, both boys ran around the corner. Neither of them knew which one was ahead of the other, from the sound of it it sounded like Four Way Shot's father was in front of Arson's father. They could hear the clicks and scrapes of his spurs hitting up against the asphalt. There was a pier seven yards away and both boys were heading towards it. Neither of them wanted to look back, all they wanted to do was get away from their father's. Arson reached the pier first, when he turned he saw that his brother's father had slipped around the corner, and his father had fallen over his uncle, both were trying to get up.

"Bro, we gotta go down." Four Way Shot yelled.

"I can't," Arson said, looking down at the water. "if I get my flamethrower wet..."

Turning his head, Four Way Shot was already climbing down the ladder down to the water, Arson saw that his father was the first to get up. He might have been twenty-one and three quarter inches, to himself that was giant as he was only twelve inches, but he was fast. Right now he didn't see his father, he saw a raging bull storming towards him. Swallowing hard and grabbing a-hold of the ladder and placing one of his boots down on one of the steps, he raised his hand, it was in a fist except for one finger, he made it clear to his father, letting his father see it. He started climbing down the ladder when his father roared and picked up the pace.

"The water a-comes up to yer waist bro," Four Way Shot said, placing his hands around his brother's waist and helping him down. "hold yer flamin' thang up out o' the way."

Doing as his brother had told him, Arson held his flamethrower above his head. The water came up to his brother's waist, but he was a little shorter and it came almost up to his neck. It was hard to walk through, with every step it felt like he was being tugged back. Closing his eyes and pushing himself along, trying to pick up the pace, he walked right into his brother.

"Climb up," his brother said. "quick!"

Looking back, Arson saw that his father was in the water, it was up to his chest and he was holding his flamethrower up out of the waters reach. His uncle was right behind him, the water came to his waist and it looked like he was walking through the water a lot faster than his father. Grabbing one of the steps, he climbed up. He felt his brother push him from behind.

"Go faster!" he heard his brother shout.

Their father's were gaining, they were almost to the ladder. Skipping a few steps, Arson reached the wooden boards and pulled himself up. His brother was right behind him. The boards were rotten and they creaked, he didn't want to move much but he had no choice. Grabbing his brother's wrist, he pulled him up. Once he was on their pier they started running, their father's had reached the ladder and they were climbing it fast.

"Bro, mah leg is a-hurtin' me." Four Way Shot said, falling back.

"Keep running Four Way!" Arson screamed.

Hearing his brother fall behind him, he stopped and turned around. They were by an old tree, no leaves and no flowers, just a dead old tree with brownish gray limbs. His uncle and father were closing in fast, thinking fast he ran over to his brother and pulled him up. He was walking him to the tree when his father rounded the corner, his uncle in hot pursuit.

"I see our rebel kids have decided to stop." his father said.

"Ye leave mah son to me," his uncle said.

"No problem Six Shooter." his father snarled. "not my responsibility anyways."

His father walked towards him, branching off from his uncle. Placing his brother down at the base of the tree and standing guard over him, he prepared for a fight. His father was only a few feet away when he lit his flamethrower, letting the anger inside of himself out, the hatred and the fear too, he allowed a fireball loose.

Four Way Shot sat with the base of the tree pressed tightly against his back, his mouth dropping in awe. His uncle had stepped to the side, the flames had reached him and his jacket sleeve was on fire but he was unhurt. Hearing a sound to his left he turned, his father was just ten feet away. Pulling himself up and away from the tree, standing shakily, he pulled out one of his guns and fired. His father dodged the bullet and withdrew one if his guns, with a click of the safety he shot the gun he was holding clean out of his hand. His attention on the gun, his father rushed forward and grabbed him around the waist.

"No!" Four Way Shot screamed. "Lemme go!"

"Not on yer life!" his father said, pulling him over his knee.

Hearing his brother scream and cry, Arson turned around, his uncle had him over his knee and he was whipping him, hard! Turning back to his father, seeing that he had pulled out his belt, he screamed. Running forward and slamming himself into his father, trying to flatten him to the ground, Arson snapped his jaw on the belt. His father laughed evilly and wrapped his hand around him, his hand rested on his flamethrower. Thinking that his father intended to break his tool, Arson jumped to the side, twisted and tried running away. His father tightened his hold on his flamethrower, he heard a snap then his flamethrower broke in half. Tripping on his father's boots, Arson fell to the ground. His flamethrower was leaking Butane and there was a small flicker of life at the end of the nozzle. Pulling his head up, looking at his father, he begged him to spare him. He could hear his brother crying still.

Four Way Shot was on his knees, tears running down his eyes, he had been whipped, hard, by his father and he had a feeling he wasn't done disciplining him. Pulling his head up, his face moist and swollen from crying, he looked into the angry eyes of his father. He wished he hadn't ran away now, guilt raced through his body. His leg hurt more now that he had been whipped, he had ripped his knee open again and it was bleeding badly.

"Don't ye even try it!" his father said, anger in his voice.

Arson saw his father raise his foot, thinking he was going to kick him he lowered his head and covered it with his good arm. His flamethrower was totally destroyed, he didn't want to move it. Hearing the ground crunch a few seconds later, he looked up. His father wasn't stomping on him or kicking him, he was crunching the fire at the end of his flamethrower.

"Get up now!" his father said, his eyes glowing brightly.

"And if I don't?" Arson said, fighting the urge to cry.

"I'll yank you up," his father said, kneeling down. "I've already broken your flamethrower don't make me break your arm!"

Doing as his father told him, Arson pulled himself to his feet. He had a feeling that his father had intended to break his flamethrower. Deep in thought about his broken flamethrower, he didn't feel his father wrap his arm around him, pulling him towards his knee and over it. A few seconds in thought turned to pain. He started crying and he tried pulling away from his father. The more he tried, the harder and faster the belt came down and the more he cried.

"That's enuff!" he heard his uncle said. "Lets git our lil' un's home."


End file.
